


Death

by swanfrost



Series: tarot (tokyo ghoul week) [6]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: today on: over analyzed scenes from tokyo ghoul written a thousand different ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanfrost/pseuds/swanfrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the question to ask is: is kaneki ken a human, or is he a ghoul?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death

**Author's Note:**

> the second to last piece in this series

/ From the Kuber-Ross model, the five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. /

DENIAL

With a scream, he throws himself onto the ground, knife clattering to the floor, salty tears streaming down his face. A throbbing pain jerks behind his left eye, shooting white hot streaks of lightning through his skull. As he slowly raises his head, shoulders trembling and sobs traveling down his chest, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror that towers before him. Through a wet, splotchy, vision, Kaneki Ken sees a face that wasn’t _, couldn’t be_ , his, staring with dual colored eyes, right back at him.

Gingerly, his right hand creeps up, past the river of tears, gently touching the corner of his left eye. For what seems like eternity, the room is deathly quiet as his eyes-one a normal, soft color, the other a hard, sharp crimson black- widen in shock.

There’s no way, he thinks internally, body trembling, there’s absolutely no way I’m a ghoul.

Desperate, he claws at his skin, hands scrambling across the countertop for his favorite burgers. Tearing off the wrapper with crazed jerks, he shoves the food into his mouth, straining for the taste of something familiar.

In less than ten seconds, he shoots upward, tripping over himself as he runs to the bathroom, bare feet slapping painfully against the slick wooden boards of his floor. Hovering over the toilet, he venomously denies himself, denies the ghoulish eyes that won’t leave him alone, denies the obvious truth.

 _I’m not a ghoul_ , he screams into the night.

 _Oh, but you are_ , a voice echoes back, _but you are_.  

\- - -

ANGER

Hanging high in the dark, starry sky is a bright full moon, hidden behind thick clouds and heavy winds. A half-human, half-ghoul is hidden in the shadows of his house. Inside him, a deadly feeling is churning in his stomach, red-hot and burning. Swirling upwards, filling his lungs, seeping up through his arms, charring his throat- spreading to every inch of his body is this odd, odd feeling. His eyes, one a calm black, the other a deep red, are bloodshot and strained. His thin frame trembles, almost like a volcano about to explode.

 _I’m not a ghoul_ , he screams, choking back sobs.  _I am not a ghoul._

But, no matter what he does, no matter what he says, he cannot wipe out the truth.

The lower part of his back throbs, as if something is pushing up, underneath the thin layer of skin. It scratches, leaving invisible scars down his back, fueled on my anger and fury, feeding greedily on flesh and blood.

As Kaneki stands in front of his broken mirror, breath coming in short gasps, sweat soaking through his shirt, he stares in disbelief at the  _thing_  that meets his eyes. His fists are clenched, nails digging into his palm-but they don’t break through the skin.

(You’re a ghoul), the voice snickers, taunting.

His red eye throbs, crimson veins snaking through a black fog. Littered around his feet are various bits of trash - shredded chip bags, torn candy wrappers, crumpled hamburger foils. All of the contents had found a place in the trash.

His fists, sweaty and clenched, slam onto the remains of the broken mirror hanging dangerously on the wall. Gritting his teeth, he chokes back a whimper.

_“I’m not a ghoul”_

\- - - -

BARGAINING

The atmosphere is stifling. Kaneki, fingers nervously gripping the edge of his stool, cowers under the steady gaze of the old man. On the old man’s face, the wrinkles crease and shift as he processes the boy’s story, told in trembling words and held-back tears. He takes in the scared light of Kaneki’s eyes, the nervous jitter of his leg, the white eye patch slung haphazardly across the right side of his face, and Yoshimura feels a pang of sorrow for this half-human, half-ghoul creature.

 _I can help you_ , he promises, offering up quaint little sugar cubes and a job, a safe haven, at Anteiku. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d made the right decision.

Even as the boy thanks him timidly and thanks him again, Yoshimura can see the tired relief flooding Kaneki’s face. The boy’s single eye brightens, his shoulders sag, and his face beams. Somehow, the old man seems to know what Kaneki is thinking-he reads the tell-tale signs painted across the boy’s expressions, hears the broken promises the boy whispers to himself.

 _With this_ , Kaneki thinks, hope rising like bile in his throat,  _With this, I’ll be ok._

 _With this,_ he says, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips _, I can be normal again._

With that, Kaneki Ken ambles off, plastic bag filled with questionable sugar cubes swinging jauntily from his hand.

On his way home, he stops by a nearby convenience store and buys a month’s worth of coffee, ecstatic butterflies flapping wildly in his stomach.

“I am going to be ok,” the boy repeats, chanting the phrase quietly, for perhaps if he repeats his mantra enough times, then all of his pain would slip away, roll down his skin like water rolls over oil. Perhaps if enough sugar dissolved on his tongue, if enough coffee filled his stomach, then the ghoul trembling inside him would be driven away.

Kaneki grips the plastic, feeling the smooth material crinkle in his hand. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Unconsciously, his left hand trembles and rises gently to touch upon his chin.

“I will be fine,” Kaneki Ken declares into the night, absolute confidence brimming in this voice. “I will be fine.“

\- - -

DEPRESSION

Sometimes, Kaneki wakes up from blood soaked dreams to sweat stained sheets. Pounding heavily under his ribcage is his heart, thudding to an irregular beat. A soft whimper gurgles in his throat, and with a shudder, he wraps the blankets around, tighter. Without notice, a tear slips past his eyes and run downs his cheeks.

Soon, he is crying uncontrollably, small frame racking with silent sobs. Still, he can see blood - human blood, human flesh - spilling over his hands, hear the dying screams of nameless, faceless, people ringing shrilly in his ears.

“Make it stop,” he whispers into the dead of night. He has no more tears left- his eyes are red and swollen, his head pounding with the last traces of the nightmare. Swallowing another whimper, Kaneki slowly slips out of bed, walking with light footsteps towards the bathroom. A few doors down sleeps Tsukiyama, who has no doubt already awakened at Kaneki’s cries. With a shaking breath, Kaneki slips into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Reaching out, Kaneki turns on the shower and quickly strips before stepping under the spray of water.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks with a dark sort of humor,  _Maybe if I stand here long enough the water will chase away the ghoul that sleeps inside me_.

Inside the confines of the wasteland that is his mind, the ghoul snickers and presses itself against the bars. (You’re a ghoul), he taunts, (A ghoul, a human, or maybe something in between. You’re both of them, yet nothing at the same time.)

Shut up, Kaneki thinks, feeling the warm water cascade down his body.

( a ghoul, a ghoul, a ghoul, aghoul, ghoulghoulghoulghoulghoul-)

Desperate, he slams his fists against the tiled wall, a dull thud that dies instantly. Wet black hair sticks to his forehead and shadows his eyes. His tears are lost in the current of water that rains down on him.

They are lost, just like him.

\- - -

ACCEPTANCE

 _I am a ghoul_.

Red spider lilies curl around the edges of his vision, painting the world a deep cerise. At his feet lay a monster, blood shot eyes rolled to the whites, a mixture of saliva and blood trickling out of a gaping mouth. A shattered kagune lays scattered around Yamori’s broken body.

Kaneki Ken stands, eyes cold and hard, hair as white as freshly fallen snow. He cocks his head to the side, raising a bail, black-nailed hand.

Below him, Yamori whines, trying furtively to gather his strength. His shattered kagune twitches, but falls still again as Kaneki lashes out and kicks him in the ribs, who howls in pain and shouts out curses, spitting out promises of revenge and death.

With an unflinching glare and a stony expression, Kaneki stands over Yamori, kagune dripping with ghoul’s blood. A contemptuous smirk curls up his lips, and Kaneki pushes back his bone white hair and lets his clawed kagune slowly slither back into his body.

Still tingling from the odd taste of ghoul’s flesh, he wipes the blood from his lips and some of the metallic blood drips onto his tongue. It’s a disgusting, rotten tang, and suddenly, he has an intense craving for human blood-the urge starts in the pit of his stomach, slithering up to wrap around his hear, shooting up to constrict his throat.

Carelessly stepping over Yamori’s twitching body, Kaneki breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of death, blood, and ghouls. Wearing his mantle of shredded clothes and bloodied hands, his bare feels ghost over the cold floor, and Kaneki steps out of the torture room, bearing scars on his soul and wounds on his heart.  

Power tingles at his fingertips. The kagune twitches below the surface of his skin. His arms and legs are stiff, strong, made to run and fight and hunt. It is power, glowing from his body, and to Kaneki’s horror, he revels in it.

 _I am a ghoul_ , he thinks in a calm, soft tone that sounds so foreign.

I am a ghoul.

And Kaneki opens the door to his new world.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated! Thank you for reading!


End file.
